Powell Rules

Brave, honest, and real....balls of fucking steel. (ooh, that could be a song, and some of the best words I've put together in months!) So, I've granted General Colin Powell a lifelong, all access pass to my lovely candy land. Very, very few can say the same. And yes, for those of you who are imagining what that land might look like...I think Mr. Powell and Martin Gore will have all kinds of things to talk about. A true gentleman, statesman, and my political hero - he has inspired this girl, and reminded me that real men do still exist in this world. Color me all a tingle, with a little dab of "I told you so" just above my left eyebrow, for all of you who didn't believe that a Republican could be so sexy ;)

Guitar Pick

So, I've been learning to play the guitar. Under the patient and supportive tutelage of my master, I have finally made it to a place where I consider myself a guitar player. It has been an exercise in patience of the highest degree...and it has humbled me in ways that I did not know were possible. There were many, oh so many times that I questioned why I was continuing to practice something that I am clearly not good at, and in those moments of doubt a theory began to form in my little brain. A theory that would eventually allow me to let it all go and just accept my inadequacies. I realized that I couldn't help the fact that I sucked at guitar, I realized that in order to be great at it...I needed a penis.
There is a reason that all of the great guitar players are men. Women can be good guitar players, but great...none really come to mind. And it's not because women are not capable of being great musicians, it's simply because the guitar was built for a man. It seduces men. Just look at it's womanly shape. All curvy in the places that you hold closest to you...and that not-so-subtle tease of the flying V, with those legs going in opposite directions...no wonder boys pick up the guitar when they are 13 and lock themselves in their basements with it. And if you look at the neck of the guitar as simply a phallic extension of men's bodies, well...genius has no choice but to emerge. Further illustrating my point is the fact that many of the guitar greats were shy, introverted, geeky guys that weren't hanging out with girls after school. I mean, how many jocks and Abercrombie models do you see rockin' the guitar? Guys that are getting the real thing, don't need to put all of that suppressed energy into an instrument. Just think about it, how many sexually repressed guys do you know right now, who spend way too much time playing Rock Band and shredding that fake plastic guitar?
I think I'm on to something here. It certainly explains why after 4 years of lessons, I can barely call myself a guitar player. And come on girls, why do we think guitar players are so hot? I think we are subliminally reacting to the intimate observation of a man very, very into his lady. So, for those of you who might be pickin' up what I'm putting down...especially the boys out there, here's a little girl-on-girl action to perk up your day.

Christian the Lion- Reunion!

This makes me cry...and it's a true story. Look it up if you don't believe me. Fun Fact: Over the last century, the lion population in Africa has declined to around 20,000. Why? Because humans are gross. And speaking of gross, my apologies for the Aerosmith song...

Red Pixies for Big Brown

Big Brown chose to not meet the expectations of millions yesterday. Millions of people who lost millions of dollars, in 45 seconds. The resounding "fuck you" that Big Brown delivered in a last place finish was only magnified by the silence of the crowd as they searched their little brains for an answer as to how such a thing could've happened. The beauty lies in the fact that there is no reason. No injury, no jockey miscues...Big Brown simply didn't want to run, so he didn't. Rebel. Gotta love him for that. Taking the steam out of a loathesome sport like horse racing is definitely worthy of a top-tier candy reward. And in my world, the red pixy stick is as good as a crown (and that ugly blanket of carnations). People will eventually forget Big Brown, just as they have forgotten all the other triple crown contenders that also failed to meet their expectations. His owner will always wonder what could have been, and the $2.7m that Big Brown earned in winnings only means that an already rich family has even more money to pour into the flesh trade. Horse racing is a vile industry. But don't take my word for it, ask the "men" who call themselves jockeys...if you can catch them between meal purging and sweat box sessions.
Having said all of that, I must admit that I would love to have the job of naming race horses. I think Big Brown would have been more inspired if he hadn't been named after a corporation. I've made a list, because I like to do that.

IG's list of great race horse names: (do you see a theme?)

Gimme Shelter
Baba O'Riley
London Calling
Paranoid Android
Mrs. Robinson
When Doves Cry
Comfortably Numb
Gone Daddy Gone
Blasphemous Rumours
Ziggy Stardust
About a Girl
Backdoor Man

ya...no

I spy a little squirrel. She's poking her big head out from the lonely underground where she has taken emotional refuge for the last several weeks. Surviving on a steady diet of pickles and carrots, she thinks she might be ready for something a little tastier...like a Big Hunk and some Blow Pops. But as her eyes begin to adjust to the bright, bright light - what does she see? 128,000 dead in Myanmar, 40,000 dead in China, honor killings in Jordan, rape in the Congo, home foreclosures up the butt in the U.S., polar bears don't have enough ice, gas...well, whatever, and more than half of Americans are on chronic medications. Nice. On a less depressing note, the Vatican says it's ok to believe in Aliens (they are also God's creatures), just as long as they aren't gay, or protestant. Hillary is on the way out. Poor thing. Desperation isn't attractive on anyone, let alone someone who is already so ugly. And finally, it looks as if Mariah has found love again -- All might be right in the world afterall! So, without hesitation, it's back to the pickles and carrots. The emotionally fragile squirrel is headed underground again...she's not quite ready to spend time with y'all just yet. But, you know, if you've got a cherry blow pop hidden away somewhere that you'd like to share, she would more than likely invite you in for a bit...she likes the apple ones too.

If I were a....

If I were a song, what would I be? A song, a song...which one is me? Today I am "Crank" by Catherine Wheel.

Holy Cow!

A visual from an earlier post...This is "Big Boy", and he is still gracing me with his presence each day on my drive to and from work. He is a magnificent creature...how 'bout that rack?

Still

I could do it. And if I thought too much about it, I would. Not for you, but for us. I'm not on your path, but I'm somewhere nearby. Far enough that you can't see me, but trust me, I could hold your hand from here. And from where I am, the sky is clear, I'm facing the sun and there is nothing but a beautiful, endless horizon ahead. It doesn't matter where we place our feet...if you see what I see, then we are heading in the same direction. If I get there first, I'll stand in a high spot and wave so you can find me. And if you arrive before me, save me a seat right next to you. We'll have alot to talk about.

Metamorphosis

Folklore tells us that the ancient goddess of spring, Eostre, once saved a bird whose wings had frozen during the winter by turning it into a rabbit. This is how the iconic, egg toting lagomorph who we refer to as the Easter Bunny, was born. I'm sure she never envisioned how plastic and pink that beautiful story of transformation would become, but it does remind me of the importance of rebirth. And more importantly, it reminds me how sometimes we can become something much different than what we started out as. Metamorphosis - I love it. There is such pure beauty in growth that actually carves out new shapes, and perspectives. And while we can't always understand or explain these transformations, they can become so significant, that in the case of Eostre's wounded bird, a legend was born. So, should you find a bunny (or a giant cockroach) looking back at you in the mirror tomorrow morning, be happy and consider yourself blessed. Don't question how you got there, just embrace it...because while you are looking towards the discovery of a new version of you, the vast majority of everyone else out there is only seeing the shadow of what they used to be.

A Beautiful Day

In Yosemite Valley.

Religious Affairs

Which is worse? Having an affair with a man who belongs to another woman, or a man who belongs to Jesus? Either way, it all ends the same...sadness, hurt and a one-way ride to interpersonal purgatory. It is in this place, that you will wonder why you let it go so far, and why you didn't get out while the gettin' was good. You will take the blame, because you plain and simply should have known better. I mean, who can compete with Jesus? And the more significant question is, what kind of a dumb ass would try to? You will replay the beautiful moments you spent together and wonder why didn't that love translate into something real. You will fail, for a period of time, to realize that the guilt and dishonesty that plague the walls of the subterranean life of an affair is too much for even the grandest of love stories...and finally, in your darkest hour, you will begin to rationalize the whole thing away, tidy it up in a little box, and place it in the back of your heart with a label that reads "fragile - handle with care". If you are wise, you will not return to this place, no matter how hot Arabic sounds, or how kind and gentle he may be. If given the opportunity to go it again, the outcome would be the same, he wouldn't have it any other way. I guess losing a good man to Jesus is better than losing him to a 22 year old sorority girl. But then, maybe not. At least I can put gum in her hair.

Happiness is...

a beautiful new coat, 80GB of melodic space, snowy mountains, and spending time with a man who has a foot fetish. Purr...

T.M.V on New Year's Eve

Guitar players are hot, we all know that. But let me just tell you, left-handed guitar players redefine the meaning of hot...even when you look like a Muppet. I saw The Mars Volta on New Year's Eve in San Francisco, and they were incredible. They did an acoustic set that made me cry, it was so beautiful. And when they came back to "electrify" us, it was so friggin' loud that my hair and clothing were vibrating. And yes, that could have been interesting...but I was more preoccupied with preserving what little hearing I have left. It was way, way too loud. These guys have an energy that I haven't seen in a long time. They are total freaks that shimmy around on stage like two little hairy bookends - and I love them. If you don't know who The Mars Volta are, please go out and educate yourself. Even if you hate the sound, listen anyway, because they are doing something so different than anything else out there. And that in itself is worth a minute of your time.

Happy New Year, y'all.

Christmas Tree Minties

So, every year since I can remember, my Grandma has given Christmas candy bags to everyone in my family. And each year, my bag has contained these little Christmas candies that I like to call the "Christmas Tree Minties". They are flat, round mint nougats with red trim and a little green tree in the middle. This candy girl cannot get enough of them. On Christmas day, I can regularly be found working trades, sometimes as high as a 3:1 ratio in order to procure as many of these minty jewels as I can. As tasty as these candies are, the real draw for me is to try and eat them in such a manner as to extract the tree (trunk and all) in one piece. Yes, I make even candy eating complicated...this should not surprise any of you.
Anyway, today, my Grandma comes up to me on the sly and gives me a whole bag of them. She tells me to sneak them out in my coat so nobody else sees that she is giving them to me -- and she is serious. Fair is the name of the game in my family. She counts out every piece of candy that goes into those bags to make absolutely sure that they are identical. Imagine my delight upon learning that my Grandma was willing to jeopardize the delicate balance of family equality just so I could have my own bag of Christmas Tree Minties...it was awesome! My grandma was a rebel today...I don't think I could have asked for anything better.

Is that a cucumber in your pocket...

Cucumbers are not penises. Cucumbers are not penises. Say it with me this time...cucumbers are not penises. I realize that men are visual creatures, and that's great, but geez...can't a girl work the produce section without some guy watching her like she is performing in some kind of 4-H porn flick? And yes, I'm choosy about my cucumbers...so, call me a tease...and move on. I love men, some of my favorite people are men, but honestly - I don't know how they make it through their day sometimes.

Cathedral Peak

Wow. Cathedral Peak has got to be the wilderness mecca for all us old school gothy types that liked to wear black and listen to depressing music back in the day. This peak, captured in the right light, could have easily been used on album covers for bands like....Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, The Church, or Echo and the Bunnymen. It's incredibly unique, and one of the most beautiful granite formations that I've ever seen.

Located in the high country of Yosemite National Park, this locale was the destination of a chilly hike that I took a couple of days ago. And when I say chilly....I mean freezing ass friggin' cold. But it was so, so worth it. The hike is 7-8 miles round trip and it leads you to some of the most amazing high elevation meadows and lakes that can be reached without extensive hiking/packing experience. If you find yourself in the Tuolumne Meadows area with a few hours on your hands, give it a go...you won't regret it. Check the wind gusts in the area though. I encountered 70mph freezing winds that could have been really dangerous had I not been prepared for them.

In spite of the challenging weather conditions, this is still my favorite time of year to explore the high Sierra's. No crowds, and the fauna and flora are busy getting ready for the long harsh winter ahead. The energy up there is unbelievable and it resonates completely in the power of this immense wilderness that heals, inspires, and challenges me....and the peace that comes from the energy that I am able to give it in return.

Giving Thanks 2007

Ok, I've come up with my list of things to be thankful for this year. But before I get to that, I want to present some turkey fun facts in hopes that, come Thanksgiving Day, you will more greatly appreciate the dead body at the center of your dining room table. Here we go. Benjamin Franklin proposed that the Turkey (not the Bald Eagle) be the official bird of the United States. Wild Turkeys can run up to 20 miles per hour, and they lived almost 10 million years ago. Turkeys heads change color when they become excited - oh, and they can see in color. The costume that Big Bird wears on Sesame Street is rumored to be made from turkey feathers, and like Big Bird, commercially raised turkeys can't fly either. Gobbling turkeys can be heard from a mile away, and lastly...the fleshy growth under a turkey's throat is called a wattle. There you go. And before I forget to mention it...pigs, cows, chickens, sheep, game hens, deer, elk, boar, rabbits, bears and frogs are all really, really cool too. Ok, ok...I'm putting the soap box away...on to my 26 reasons to be thankful on this Thanksgiving holiday...remember, these aren't in any particular order (oh, and all 26 reasons from last year, still apply):

1. Lola. There aren't words - I just miss you.
2. The rain.
3. The Police. Best concert experience of the year for me.
4. My parents.
5. V8. Tasty drink...give it a go, you'll like it.
6. Pomegranates. Nothing like working for it.
7. Hwy 108/Sonora Pass.
8. Naps and bubble baths.
9. The Rain Song.
10. San Francisco.
11. Tears.
12. Barefoot walks in the park.
13. Moments of truth.
14. The health and happiness of all the people that I love.
15. Clarity. However brief.
16. A secret crush.
17. My friends. I couldn't make it without you.
18. Black and Tans. mmmm, sounds good right now!
19. Laffy Taffy, Lik-em aid, and marshmallow creme in the jar.
20. A starry night in the mountains.
21. Getting carded the day after my thirty-------birthday.
22. Kindness.
23. Imagination.
24. Words.
25. Strings, picks, amps and distortion.
26. Hands. But, only the sexy ones - that's what I'm talking about!

Happy Thanksgiving y'all. I hope this holiday season finds you at peace....lord knows the world could use all of the help it can get in that area. And if you are one of the lucky people who end up with the wish bone...make a really good one for me!

Adventures in the Woods

When was the last time you had a real adventure? Let me assure you, they are as good for the soul as anything. I long for those experiences of my youth, when I would come across something for the first time and my imagination would just run wild with ideas and wonder. I still have an overly active imagination and I build all kinds of wonderous ideas into my little fantasy world, but, real-life adventures that make me feel like a kid again - priceless, and totally awesome.
So, Redwood and I went on a dirt bike ride. We were looking for an old logging train trestle that he knew about. You never know what you are going to find out in the woods. Especially the woods of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I am partial, I know...but the area in and around the Sierra Nevada's is one of the most amazing places on this earth. And today, for us, they served as our adventure land as we rode on over 50 miles of trail, and hiked the crippled rail bed in hopes that the trestle would be there. We laughed alot, speculated on how people must have survived out there over 100 years ago, and even came close to pissing our pants with what we believed was a mountain lion sighting. Let me just say....those cats are stealthy. We saw it move, but never heard it. That's when my attention shifted toward finding the biggest friggin' stick I could carry.
Anyway, we eventually made it to the Trestle , and it was beautiful. Rugged and surly...much like it's origin, much like the history of those mountains. We wanted to cross it, but the beams were too compromised to take the chance. And motorcycle boots are not exactly conducive to free leg movement and the possible need for agile footwork should shit start to crumble. We had such a great day. One that will stay with me forever, as it's not everyday you can sit on a rock with your brother, in the presence of an old train trestle, and feel like a kid again.

Two bulls, four big ass horns and a lady

So, I have become obsessed with these two bulls that I see on my drive to and from work. The horns on these magnificent creatures have to be at least 10 inches in diameter at the base. I've never seen anything like it, and I am completely captivated by what they are up to every day. They have been grazing a solo pasture for the last three weeks (that's when I first noticed them). Just the two of them, never more than a few feet away from one another. Buddies. Lying in the mist in the mornings and looking towards the East in the afternoons to avoid the harsh sunset. This amazing energy radiates from them, and something tells me that they have an interesting story to tell. I think they might be Watusi cattle, but I'm not exactly livestock savvy, so who knows. All I know is that they are enchanting, and I dig them, alot.....I know, I'm a strange, strange girl!
Anyway, speaking of girls...one showed up yesterday afternoon. The pasture doesn't seem so lonely anymore. At first, they remained huddled together, observing her from afar. But, today, my joined-at-the-hip boys ventured farther apart as the smaller of the two made a move to chat her up. Big boy seemed to be unaffected by her presence, and wouldn't go near her. I think he is establishing his dominance by playing hard to get. She will ultimately ignore the one that likes her and pine away for the bad-boy that won't give her the time of day. I know that scene all too well, I just can't believe I'm watching it being played out in a pasture. I'll keep you posted as the drama unfolds....

"The Future is Unwritten" - Joe Strummer

I just finished reading "Redemption Song - The Ballad of Joe Strummer" by Chris Salewicz. A must read for anyone who, like me, worships at the altar of The Clash. Passion, intelligence, and a guitar...be still my tingly heart. Joe Strummer ruled!